“Why, I supposed you could ride! You looked like a boy who knew how!”
“So I do! But this thing I’m on—Call this a horse? I’d rather have a mule! How dared they give me such a thing?”
In her hurry Molly had not observed the animal which had stood saddled at the stable door, and that now seemed as ugly and tiresome a beast as her own little pony was fine. Pity then banished vexation and she exclaimed:
“You poor fellow! I don’t believe Matty meant you to have that beast. But, come on, anyway. Maybe he’ll warm up after a bit, and I’ll take that back—that I said about your riding. I reckon you’re all right. Anybody must be who can stick on the rack-o’-bones you’ve got. Touch him up a little—I’ll set the pace.”
Away she sped while the gaunt creature which Leslie bestrode planted his forefeet firmly on the ground and refused to lift them thence. Molly was fast passing around a curve in the road and would then be out of sight, and Leslie’s temper roseto its height. He forgot everything except his own awkward position and the fact that his lively young guest could have the laugh on him when that night’s tale was told.
“Oh! you hateful beast! You won’t go, eh? Well, go you shall! Hear me? Take that—and that—and—THAT!”
Blows rained hard and fast, till the lash of the whip gave out, and the butt took its place. Then, as if the astonished horse had just aroused to the state of things, it bolted! and the way its old heels picked up that road was the most amazing thing of all that evening’s happenings.
Then, indeed, did Leslie prove himself a better horseman than he looked, and, for all time to come, his full ability to “stick.” Riding ahead at a smart pace, but not her pony’s best, Molly heard the footfalls behind her and swerved out of the way—not a minute too soon! Evidently, the maligned “rack-o’-bones” would otherwise have ridden her down. He passed her like a whirlwind and then—she after him. Followed, a race to be remembered! The big horse keeping the lead, the little “calico” pit-pattering along behind in a hopeless effort to get even.
Thus for what seemed an endless time, the long dusty road was desolate of any travellers except this pair of runaways. Sometimes a coyote yelped in the distance; occasionally some creeping thingbarred the track before them; and a screech owl sent its blood-curdling cries into their ears. Otherwise they were alone in the wilderness and the night, and beyond speaking distance even of one another.
The effect was to set each culprit thinking. How wild a thing they had done! How thoughtless, how selfish! What fresh anxiety they had added to the troubled hearts back there at “Roderick’s,” as soon as their absence was discovered! How flat their jolly adventure had fallen!
Molly had bound Mattie to secrecy, and there was that about the western girl that convinced the other that the secret would be kept. If Mrs. Roderick did guess what had become of them, and said so, it would be no comfort to Lady Gray and Helena; and the longer Molly pondered the matter, the more ashamed and terrified she felt. What would Aunt Lucretia say? And what her father—could he see his madcap at that moment?
In a bitter reaction of feeling the girl dropped her head upon the pony’s neck, though still mechanically urging the willing creature to her utmost speed. Her thoughts were far away when, suddenly, she felt a check upon the rein and lifted her startled face.
“Why, Leslie! You scared me!”
“Were you asleep?”
“No.”
“What then? Your head was down. The ‘calico’ was taking her own way. What’s the matter?”
“It’s none—I mean, if you must know, I was crying.”
“Oh! horrors! Why?”
“Because I’ve done such a dreadful thing. It was wicked. I had no right and—and—”
“Yes, I know. You were frightened. Well, I was, too.”
Molly straightened her shoulders and pretended contempt, saying:
“I didn’t know as gentlemen—‘thoroughbreds,’ you know—western thoroughbreds ever were fr-fri-ghtened. What—was—that?”
A curious cry had reached them and Molly finished her speech in a whisper. The horses, also, had heard it and had thrust back their ears in fear.
Just there the road skirted the edge of a forest and the cry had come from its depths. They peered into the shadows but could see nothing, and edging the pony close to Beelzebub, as Leslie’s mount was named, Molly repeated her question.
“Likely a wild cat, puma, or wolf. I don’t know,” he answered.
“Have you heard it before? Was it that scared you?”
“No, I was afraid something would happen to you, left behind, alone. I fancy we’re in nodanger that way—” pointing forestward. “But—”
“‘But’—what? If you thought about me why didn’t you come back to look for me?”
“I couldn’t. Once he got in motion this beast wouldn’t stop till he—ran down like a clock.”
“Pooh! You should go to a riding school! Let’s go on, now, or else back. I can’t stop here with lions and panthers yelling at us! I—I—Oh! do come on! But keep tight hold of the pony’s rein. Don’t get away from me again.”
“I shan’t. I can’t.”
“Oh! come!”
“I tell you I can’t. We’re planted.”
Molly’s lip quivered, but she restrained her tears and tremulously entreated:
“Oh, Leslie, don’t! I can’t stand teasing now. This isn’t funny—not a bit. Shall we go back? Or try to overtake the others?”
“We can’t do either one. I tell you we’re simply stuck. Settled down and gone to housekeeping. Beelzebub has finished. He won’t take another step. Fact. We’ve got to make the best of it. If that pony of yours was as big as a decent calf we might ride double and leave this wretch to starve and think it over at his leisure. I don’t see why that girl gave me such a creature. Let’s get off and sit down on that rock and wait. Something’s bound to happen—sometime—if we live long enough. The folks’ll come back this same road, course.”
He jumped to the ground and held out his hand to her but, for a moment, she would not dismount; then as he coolly left her and walked to the rock he had pointed out, she slipped from her saddle and followed him. But she still held fast to her bridle rein and the pony offered no resistance to the leading, though the big brute of the profane name remained in the middle of the road, his forefeet pointed forward, his hind ones backward, his whole attitude one of stubborn ugliness.
Leslie had reached a point where the ludicrous side of things appeared and he remarked:
“Looks like the potato-horses I used to make when I was a kid, with matches stuck in for legs. I wonder how long he’ll stand there!”
Molly smiled faintly. At present there were no alarming sounds from the forest and the boy’s apparent indifference to their lonely situation relieved her own fears.
“Well, it’s an ‘ill wind that blows nobody good,’ you know. That Beelzy thing is the toughest I ever rode. He’s bumped me up and down till I ache all over and this rock is actually soft in comparison. Here. I’ll put some of these big ferns for a cushion for you, and, after all, we’ll meet our folks just as soon by waiting as by going on. They must come back, you know, sure as fate. This is the only road leads to ‘Roderick’s’, I heard them say. Hello! Why—Beelzebub, good boy!”
A whim had seized the obstinate animal to approach his late rider and fawn about his feet, nibbling the scant grass which grew there, as the pony was already doing. In surprise at this change both Leslie and Molly laughed and forgot, for the time, that they were in such a desolate place at so late an hour.
The horse’s action reminded Molly of an animal her father had once owned and she began to tell stories about him; stories that the boy matched with marvelous ones of his own. That some of these were fiction made no difference. Molly disdained to believe them but they served to pass the time as well as any better ones might have done. Indeed, fear had now left them. The rest after their hard ride was pleasant and both felt that they were simply waiting for their friends’ return.
So they sat on, as composedly as if they were safe at home, till Molly’s eyes, fixed upon the distant road, suddenly grew startled again.
Leslie’s latest yarn had been of an Indian outbreak, or uprising, of recent date and in this neighborhood. He had heard it that evening from the men at the inn and had not paused to consider how unlikely was such an incident so near to the city of Denver. In truth, the “boys” had invented the whole story, just for the sake of impressing the young “tenderfeet”—Monty, Herbert and Leslie;and it had satisfied the jokers that these youngsters “swallered it hull.”
But Leslie had a gift for dramatic recital and listening to him the affair seemed very real to the girl. The scene and the hour suggested a possible repetition of the occurrence; and as there now came to her ears the sound of distant hoofbeats on the road, and presently, to her eyes the sight of a company of horsemen approaching, she gave one terrified cry and darted into the forest behind her.
“The Indians! The—Indians! They’ll kill us!”
Moved by his own eloquence and still believing the story he had been told, the boy followed her flight. He did not even turn to look where she had pointed but, with a headlong rush, dashed into the wood and into a mass of briars which threw him face downward in their midst. Also, at that same instant both the deserted horses set up a continued neighing, which confirmed the fears of their riders who, both now prone upon the ground, felt that their last hour had come.
As soon as Molly and Leslie had ridden away, Mattie Roderick disappeared within her own room and became deaf to all the inquiries made outside her door. She was a high-spirited, “wild western” girl, accustomed to obeying little else than her own impulses. She had a fine record as a horsewoman and had been disappointed that she could not go with the searching party. This being the case, it was next better to lend her pony to that other lively girl who was so like herself.
But Mrs. Roderick was certain that the missing Molly and Leslie had followed the first party and could give no comfort to anxious Mrs. Ford beyond the statement:
“Things don’t happen often, ’twixt here an’ Denver. Been one or two hold-ups, of men known to carry money, but beyond a murder or so, ain’t been no excitement this long spell.”
“Murder!” cried Helena aghast, and folding her arm a bit more tightly about Gray Lady’s trembling body.
“Oh! yes’m. A few has been. But nobody’d touch to harm them children. You needn’t worry.They’ve thought it smart to take a hand in the business, that’s all. Mattie won’t say ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ to my askin’, but the ‘calico’s’ out of the corral and Long Jim’s Belezebub ain’t hitched no longer. Ha, ha, ha! If either them kids tries to ride Beelzy—Hmm. But Chiquita, now, she’s little but she’s great. Pa and Matt claim she’s worth her weight in gold. She’s likely, anyway. An’ don’t fret, lady. They’ll all be home to breakfast, an’ seein’s I’ve got that to cook, I’ll hump myself to bed and advisin’ you to do the same. If not, make yourselves comfortable’s you can, and good night.”
After the landlady’s departure the house became strangely quiet. The men who had been talking outside sought their own rest, and the anxious watchers missed the murmur of voices and the sense of protection which the presence of even these strangers gave.
While Mrs. Ford was still restlessly pacing the long piazza, Alfy slipped within. With her keen observation of details, she had seen where the woodpile was and that the fire on the hearth in the main room of the house had about died out. This had been lighted for the guests’ enjoyment, the inn folks caring nothing for it and therefore easily forgetting to replenish it. When she had gathered an armful of wood, Alfy carried it to the fireplace and lustily blew upon the embers till a little blaze started. Then she heaped the sticksupon this and presently had a roaring flame. At once the room grew cheerful, its bareness furnished, as it were, by this open fire.
“Now, dear Lady Gray, please come right inside. You’ll get your death out here in this night air, with not even your cloak on. Come, Helena, you both come in,” said Alfaretta, appearing on the porch.
But her first words had started the mother’s tears.
“Lady Gray.” That had been her son’s pet name for her, its use still more frequent than “Mother,” and with a little cry she murmured:
“Ah! my boy! Shall I ever hear you say that again!”
“I don’t see why not,” said practical Alfaretta, nodding to Helena to help persuade the woman to take a needed rest. “You heard that landlady tellin’ how ’t they’d all be home to breakfast. Well, then, she knows. She’s lived here a power o’ time and we’ve only just come. Say, Helena, let’s make a pot of coffee and set the table. I can do it right on them coals, after the fire burns down a mite. If I can’t there, ’twon’t be the first cook stove I’ve tackled in my life, and I know one thing if I don’t any more: that is, when those searchers and Dolly an’ Jim do come they’ll be so tearing hungry they could nigh eat ten-penny nails. Come on. Let’s get supper for ’em. You boss the job, Mrs. Ford,and then it’ll be done right. I saw a lot of chickens in a back room, as I come through, all fixed to fry. Well now, you both know I can fry chicken to the queen’s taste, and I’ll just lay myself out this time!”
Her energy and cheerfulness were not to be resisted. Mrs. Ford followed the two girls inside and with a little shiver, from her exposure outside, drew a chair to the hearth and bent to its warmth. Then, as if she had been in her own home, Alfaretta whisked about, dragging small tables from the dining room into this larger one, ordering Helena to do this and that, and all with a haste that was almost as cheering as the fire.
“Now, Helena, here’s the dish-closet. You set the table. My! Ain’t these the heaviest plates and cups you ever saw? Ma Babcock’d admire to get some like ’em; our children break such a lot of things. But Mis’ Calvert wouldn’t think she could drink tea out of such. She wants her ’n to be thin as thin! and she’s got one set, ’t belonged to her grandmother—great-grandma, I guess it was—come over from England or somewhere—that she won’t let no hands except her own touch to wash. I wish you could see Aunt Betty wash dishes! ’Twould set you laughing, fit to split, first off. It did me till I begun to see the other side of it, seems if. First, she must have a little porcelain tub, like a baby’s wash-tub, sort of—then a tiny mop, doll’smop, I called it, and towels—Why, her best table napkins aren’t finer than them towels be. And dainty! My heart! ’Tis the prettiest picture in the world when that ’ristocratic old lady washes her heirloom-china! But this—your hands’d get tired enough if you had to do much of this. Hurry up! Don’t you know how to set a table yet, great girl like you? Well, do the best you can. I’m going into that kitchen to cook. I can’t wait for this fire to get low. I surely can’t, because, you see, they might be here any minute—any single minute—and nothing done yet, not even the table set. Mrs. Ford, you better cut the bread. Here’s a lot of it in a tin box, and a knife with it, sharp enough to cut a feller’s head off. You best not touch it, Helena, you’re so sort of clumsy with things. Now I’m off to boil ’tatoes and fry chicken!”
It was impossible to retain gloomy forebodings while Alfy’s cheerful tongue was running on at this rate, and as she left the living-room for the kitchen at the rear both Lady Gray and Helena were laughing, partly at their own awkwardness at the tasks assigned them as well as at her glib remarks.
“I never set a table in my life!” cried Helena, in glee.
“And I never sliced a loaf of bread!” said Gray Lady; “though I’ll admit it is time I learned. Indeed, I’ve never had a home, you know, and I’mlooking forward to my housekeeping as eagerly as a child to her playhouse.”
“I’m wondering what the landlady will say, when she finds how we’ve invaded her pantry,” continued Helena, carefully arranging the coarse stone-china upon the oilcloth covered tables. She had begun very reluctantly but found that the labor was a delightful relief from worry, and, with the good sense she possessed, now went on with it as painstakingly as if she expected a fashionable and critical company. Indeed, her first table-setting, copied, as near as she could remember, from the careful appointments of her own mother’s board, was to be an object lesson to others besides herself.
For presently there was the sound of voices in the kitchen; Alfaretta’s, of course, with another equally gay and girlish.
Mattie Roderick had slept lightly. She had been excited over the arrival of the Ford party in the first place, and doubly so from the later events of the night. So as she lay sleepless and listening, she heard the rattle of cooking things in the kitchen below and soon the odor of frying. With a little grumble she got up and put on the few garments she had discarded.
“It can’t be near morning yet. I don’t see what’s set Ma to cooking, ’less they’re on the road back and nigh starved. One thing I know! I shan’t marry no tavern-keeper! It’s nothin’ but fry,roast, bake, an’ bile, the hull endurin’ time. I’m goin’ to quit and go east fur as Denver, anyhow, soon’s I get my age. I’d like to look same’s them girls do, and they ain’t no prettier ’n me. It’s only their clothes makes ’em look it, and as for that Molly, they call her, that’s rid off on Chiquita, she’s just as plain and folksy as get out! So’s the red-headed one with the high-falutin’ name, out of that song Pa sings about the ‘blue Juniata’ and ‘bright Alfaretta,’ or some such trash. Them boys—Well, they hain’t took no notice o’ me yet—but I can show ’em a thing or two. I bet I can shoot better than any of ’em. I bet, if they don’t hurry off too early to-morrow, I’ll get up a match and teach ’em how a Colorado girl can hit the bull’s-eye every time!”
With these ambitious reflections the inn-keeper’s daughter arrived at the kitchen and the presence of the red-headed girl in it, instead of the portly form of her mother.
“What on earth does it mean?” demanded Mattie, scarcely believing her own eyes.
It didn’t take Alfy long to explain, and she added the warning:
“You keep it up! Don’t you let on to Mrs. Ford that there’s the least misdoubt in your mind but what them searchers will be back, right to once, same’s I’m pretending! Oh! I hope they do! I hope they do! I hope it so much I dassent hardlythink and just have to keep talking to stop it. If I had hold that Molly Breckenridge I’d shake her well! The dear flighty little thing! To go addin’ another scare to a big enough one before, and now about that Leslie. He’s a real nice boy—Leslie is—if you let him do exactly what he wants and don’t try to make him different. His ma just sets all her store by him. I never got the rights of it, exactly, Aunt Betty Calvert—she ’t I’ve been hired out to—she never approved of gossip. She said that folks quarrellin’ was just plain makin’ fools of themselves, or words to that effect. The Fords had done it and now, course, they was thicker ’n blueberries again and didn’t want to hear nothing about the time they wasn’t. Don’t leave them ’tatoes in that water so long! Why, child o’ grace, don’t you know yet, and you keepin’ tavern, that soon’s a potato is cooked it ought to be snatched out the pot and set to steamin’, to get dry? Soggy potatoes gives you the dyspepsy and that’s a disease I ain’t sufferin’ to catch. It makes folks so cross.”
By this time Mattie had entered into the spirit of the thing and had never been happier in her life. This Alfaretta was so jolly, so friendly, so full of talk. So wholly satisfied in her conscience, too, now that “one of the family” was beside her to share the risk she had assumed of using other people’s provisions so recklessly.
But in that she had misjudged her genial hosts.Nothing was too good for their guests, these or any others, and if the chickens meant for breakfast were pre-empted for this midnight meal, why there were plenty more in the hennery.
So, secure in her better knowledge of the elder Rodericks, Miss Mattie sped about, flew in and out of the sitting-room, to tend the fire or add some delicacy to Helena’s daintily set table; the same that made her stare at its difference from ordinary. Didn’t seem possible that the mere arrangement of cups and saucers, of knives and forks, could give such an “air” to the whole place.
“Like brook trout, Mis’ Ford?” asked the girl, upon one entrance. “You men-folks like ’em, too?”
Assured that they were considered a great treat, Mattie advised:
“Well, you just wait! I know where there’s a lot, in a basket in the pool. Pa catched ’em to have ’em ready and I’ll hike after ’em to onct. You like to go along, Helena?”
Stately Helena smiled at the free masonry of the westerner and glanced at Mrs. Ford, in inquiry:
“Yes, dear, go with her. I shan’t be lonely, with Alfaretta left, flying in and out busily. I declare, those kitchen odorsaresavory! I hope the wanderers will soon be here, that this new meal won’t be kept till spoiled, as Mrs. Roderick complained of the other.”
Helena noticed that the lady expressed no further doubt about the safety of the absentees and thus encouraged she gladly accepted Mattie’s invitation. Indeed, this whole trip was full of delightful novelty and all the affectations which had once made Helena Montaigne disagreeable to sensible people had been discarded, or outgrown.
Mattie’s first preparation was to take off her shoes and stockings and she advised the other girl to do the same. “Else you’ll get ’em all dirt going through the swamp to the pool. We don’t have none too much water hereabouts but what we have got iswet!”
“I couldn’t go barefooted. My feet would hurt so. I’ll have to risk the shoes. I have others in my suit-case, wherever it is.”
“Well, come on then. You can step light through the ma’sh and ’twon’t be so bad. Wait till I fetch a lantern.”
“A lantern, in this moonlight?”
“Sure. ’Twon’t shine into the woods. The trees are awful thick and though I could go straight there and back, without stumbling once, you’re new to the way an’ the light’s for you. I don’t want you to get hurt just goin’ for a mess o’ fish!”
“Thank you, Mattie. That is very considerate of you. Shall I carry it?”
Mattie was pleased by the other girl’s “thank you.” Such small courtesies were almost unknownto her, but she determined to remember how “good” it had made her feel and to experiment with it upon somebody else, sometime. Even as Helena’s table-setting had also been a lesson in neatness; and with her eagerness to learn she felt that she had been amply repaid for giving up her sleep. Chattering as if she had always known the stranger she led the way safely to the pool, deep in the woods; and Helena never forgot that scene. Except for the slight illumination of the lantern the blackness of the forest was intense, and the rustling of wild things among the tree-tops startled her.
Mattie looked up and saw her fear, then laughed hilariously:
“Two ’fraid-cats together, you an’ the birds! Likely, they never saw a lantern before and hate to be disturbed even more ’n I did, listenin’ to Alfaretta in the kitchen. But don’t you like it? Ain’t it awful solemn in such woods in the night-time? Makes a body think of all the hateful things she’s done and sort of wish she hadn’t done ’em. But there ain’t no livin’ thing in these woods’ll hurt you, nowadays, though onct they was chock full o’ grizzlies an’ such. Now I guess that’s enough. Don’t suppose your folks’d eat a bigger mess ’n that, do you? ’Cause I could take a few more if you say so.”
Helena looked at the big basket of trout and laughed, then shivered at the echo of her ownlaughter in that place, which seemed full as “solemn” to her as it did to the more accustomed Mattie.
They were soon back at the inn, Mattie at once proceeding to show Alfaretta that she could do some fine cooking herself; and between them they made Mrs. Roderick’s larder suffer, so eager was each to outdo the other and to suggest some further delicacy for that wonderful meal.
Mrs. Ford paced in and out of the living-room, watchful and still anxious, though greatly amused at the doings of the three girls, and wondering, as well, how the landlady could sleep through all that din and chatter. For Helena, too, had gone into the kitchen and seizing a pitcher of cream Mattie was carrying to the table, demanded a chance to “whip” it.
“It’s such an improvement, or will be for that good coffee you’ve made, and Herbert likes it so much.”
Mattie put her arms akimbo and stared; then demanded, in turn:
“Can’t you do anything sensibler than ‘whip’ cream? As if it was bad. You make me laugh, though I don’t know what you mean.”
Helena soon showed her, even with a two-tined steel fork beating the rich cream into a heaped-up, foamy mass, which Mattie declared was the “wonderfulest thing” she had ever seen. They werestill discussing the matter, and each sampling the delicacy with relish, when Mrs. Ford’s excited voice was heard, calling:
“They’re coming! Oh! they’re coming at last! Away down the road! I can hear them—beyond the turn of the road. Only it seems that they come slowly. Is it so? Or is it my own impatience?”
Only Alfaretta stopped to push the pans and pots to the cool, safe end of the great stove, now glowing red in front from the hot fire they had made. The other girls rushed outward to see for themselves, and Alfy reached the piazza just in time to hear Mattie remark:
“Yes, they do travel powerful slow. They ain’t in no hurry to get here. Somethin’s happened. You can just believe me—somethin’s happened!”
As the approaching company came around the bend of the road into sight of the inn, a “calico” pony detached itself from the group of riders and before those watching on the porch could hear her words, Molly was shouting to them:
“We’re all right! Everybody is all right—except the one that isn’t! And he—Wait, I’m coming!”
The three girls ran down the road to meet her, and even Lady Gray walked swiftly after, and in a moment more they had encircled the truant with their loving arms, forgetting that she had given them a needless anxiety.
“They weren’t Indians at all. They were just our own folks, but Leslie and I were frightened half to death! I don’t know what would have become of us except the pony told our story. And he’s only smashed up a little some way. They had to hold him on the horse—”
“What! Leslie, my Leslie, my boy!” gasped Mrs. Ford.
“Leslie? No, indeed! Nothing the matter with him only riding the rack-o’-bones. The ‘Tenderfoot’ man, and the cowboys say it served him right. Only he got off too easy with just a broken collar bone, and a sprained ankle, and some teeth gone—and a few other trifles like that. He—”
“You can get off Chiquita now, Molly. I want to rub her down. Ain’t she the best ever?” said Mattie, calmly lifting the rider down from the saddle.
“Indeed she is! And how strong you are, to lift a big girl like me!” cried Molly, eagerly. “I do believe your little Chiquita saved our lives, Leslie’s and mine.”
“Tell me what you mean, child. Where is Leslie?” demanded the Gray Lady, placing her hand on Molly’s shoulder and peering into her eyes.
“Why—I mean, what I say, course, Mrs. Ford. But Leslie’s all right now. He’s scratched with the briars and torn his clothes and has had to ride double with a cowboy, or drover, because he couldn’t stand Beelzebub again. Mr. Roderick is riding that creature and—Here, here they are!”
Once in sight of the house most of the party came up at a canter, Mr. Ford cheerfully saluting his wife, and the others waving their hats and showing off a few tricks of their steeds—while Dorothy was handed down from riding-pillion behind her host. Everybody’s tongue was loosenedat once and such a hubbub arose that Mrs. Ford clapped her hands to her ears, then caught hold of Leslie as he slid to the ground and ran like a girl to the house. She wanted a chance to kiss him before the rest came in and had learned long before this that her boy “hated coddling.”
However, he submitted to a little of it that night with a better grace than usual, understanding that he had given his mother anxiety; and told her as briefly as possible the whole story.
“You see, Lady Gray, that ‘Sorrel Tenderfoot’ was too smart, so came to grief.”
“A good lesson to remember, son.”
“Course. Well, he drove into a road, a trail, and got stuck. The horses bolted, the wagon went to smash and he was hurt. Pretty bad, I guess. The others weren’t at all, only frightened and sort of stunned. They were in a tight fix. So dark in there they didn’t know which way was out and made up their minds to stay till daylight. That Jim Barlow—I tell you he’s great!—he fixed a bed with the wagon cushions and laid ‘Sorrel’ on it. Then he felt the man all over and saw his legs and arms were sound. After that he got the box of the buckboard right side up and made Dorothy get into that and lie down. He covered her with the robes and made Manuel promise to stay right beside her while he went back for help. Dorothy wouldn’t let him go, at first, till he madeher ashamed thinking about the ‘Tenderfoot.’
“He made his way back all that distance to the main road, just by noticing the branches that had been broken by their driving in. He was going to walk back to Denver for help, thinking that was the quickest way, but when he got out of the woods he couldn’t go any further. He’d hurt his arm some way—Dad says it’s broken—and the pain made him faint. We found him there—I mean the searchers did, and when he came to be told them the rest.
“Lem Hunt and Roderick knew exactly where to look. They found the runaway blacks and captured them, or some of the cowboys did, and they made a litter of the wagon box, covered it with branches and carried him out of the woods. They’ve brought him all the way here for he insisted on coming. Said he’d be better cared for by Mrs. Roderick than at any hospital in Denver. He was sort of crazy and they didn’t dare oppose him. That’s why they are so slow. But they’ll be here soon and he’ll be put to bed. Lemuel says the man’ll take a blazed trail the rest of his life, and will have time to get over his smartness while his bones heal. But I think it’s too bad. I’m sorry for him, and so is Dad. Now, come. They’re going to table and I’m hungry as a bear. Isn’t it fine of Mrs. Roderick to get a meal this time of night, or day, or whatever hour it is?”
“It wasn’t Mrs. Roderick. Alfy was the moving spirit and the other girls helped. But not one mouthful shall you have till you confess your own fault. Why did you, Leslie, run away into all that danger against my wishes?”
“Why, Molly—” began the lad, then checked himself for shame. “Why, Lady Gray, I couldn’t let a girl like Molly ride away alone, could I? And she would go—just would. And the funny part was—we heard ‘lions’ or ‘panthers’, or something in the woods behind us. We’d stopped to rest and we thought so. Then we saw the searchers coming back and thought they were Indians! and the way we took to the woods would make you laugh. That’s how I got to look like this. We might have been in them yet if little Chiquita hadn’t stood like a post right beside the rock where we’d been sitting. Her being there, and Molly’s hat and jacket that she’d taken off because she was too warm, told the truth. Dorothy saw the hat and knew it at once. So when Roderick came up and recognized Chiquita they made another search and found—us. But I tell you, Lady Gray, I’ve had all the lecturing I need just now from the other head of the family. I think Dad would have liked me to ride with him, at first, but he gave me his opinion of a boy who would ‘sneak’ off and ‘leave his mother unprotected in a strange house at night.’ Just forgive me this once, motherkin,and I’ll be good in future; or till next time, any way. Now, come.”
Such a meal as followed had rarely been eaten even in that land of hungry people, where the clear air so sharpens appetite; and in the midst of it came the landlady herself, not even showing surprise, and certainly not offence, at the liberties which had been taken in her house. Fortunately, Jim’s arm had been bruised and strained, only; not broken as Mr. Ford had feared.
Then to bed and a few hours of sleep; another breakfast, as good as the first; after which buckboards were driven round and horses saddled; Herbert, Jim, and Manuel electing to ride while Monty was to travel in the wagon with Silent Pete, as driver. He was the better suited thus because Mr. Ford and Leslie were to be his companions, the gentlemen having arranged matters this time without any casting of lots.
Lemuel drove the four-in-hand as on the day before, having as passengers Mrs. Ford and Miss Milliken—who had slept soundly through all the events of the night—with the four girls. Jedediah, Mr. Ford’s colored “boy” also rode beside the driver, for the greater protection of the feminine travelers, should any need arise.
But nothing did. All the untoward incidents of this journey to the Rockies had happened during its first stage. “Tenderfoot Sorrel” was left behind,of course, but he did not greatly regret that. He felt that he could more easily endure physical pain than the chaffing of his fellows at San Leon.
As before, the start was made with a flourish of whip and horn, amid good wishes and farewells from the hosts of the Wayside Inn, and a sure promise to “come again!” Then a day’s journey steadily onward and upward, through river-fed valleys and rocky ravines, with a mid-day stop at another little hostelry, for a change of horses and a plain dinner.
Then on again, following the sun till it sank behind a mountain range and they had climbed well nigh to the top. Here Mr. Ford ordered a brief halt, that the travellers might look behind them at the glorious landscape. When they had done so, till the scene was impressed upon their memories forever, again the order came:
“Eyes front! but shut! No peeping till I say—Look!”
Laughing, finding it ever so difficult to obey, but eager, indeed, the last ascent was made. Then the wheels seemed to have found a level stretch of smoother travelling and again came Mr. Ford’s cry:
“All eyes front and—open! Welcome to San Leon!”
Open they did. Upon one of the loveliest homes they had ever beheld. A long, low, roomy building,modelled in the Mission style that Lady Gray so greatly admired; whose spacious verandas and cloistered walks invited to delightful days out of doors; while everywhere were flowers in bloom, fountains playing, vine-clad arbors and countless cosy nooks, shadowed by magnificent trees. A lawn as smooth as velvet, dotted here and there by electric light poles whose radiance could turn night into day.
For a moment nobody spoke; then admiration broke forth in wondering exclamations, while the host helped his wife to alight, asking:
“Well, Erminie, does it suit you?”
“Suit? Dear, I never dreamed of anything better than a plain shack on a mountain side. That’s what you called it—but this—this is no shack. It’s more like a palace!”
“Well, the main thing is to make it a home.”
“Is it as good as the ‘cabin,’ father?” asked Leslie, coming up and laying his hand on Mr. Ford’s shoulder.
“Let us hope it will be! If the first inmates are peace and good will. Peace and good will,” he repeated, gravely. Then his accustomed gayety replaced his seriousness and he waved his hand toward the entrance, saying:
“Queen Erminie, enter in and possess your kingdom! Your maids of honor with you!”
“My heart!” cried Alfaretta, following herhostess, like a girl in a dream. “I thought ’twould be just another up-mounting sort of place, not near so nice as Deerhurst or the Towers, but it’s splendid more ’n they are, either one or both together.”
“Wonderful, what money can do in this land of the free!” remarked Herbert, critically estimating the establishment. “Think of a man having his own electric light plant away up here! Why, if it weren’t for the mountains yonder one could fancy this is Newport or Long Branch.”
“Without the sea, Bert. Even money can’t bring the sea to the mountain-tops,” said Helena, though her own face was aglow with admiration.
“It can do the next best thing to it. Look yonder,” said Monty, pointing where a glimmer of sunset-tinted water showed through a hedge of trees.
“Let’s go there. It certainly is water,” urged Jim Barlow.
“Well, Leslie told me there was a strange waterfall near San Leon and I suppose the same money has pressed that into service. To think! That ‘Railroad Boss’ earned his first quarter selling papers on the train! He was talking about the ‘cabin’ as we came along. It had two rooms and he lived in it alone with his mother. By his talk they hadn’t always been so poor and she belonged to an old family, as ‘families go in America.’ That was the way he put it, and it was his ambition tosee his mother able to take ‘the place where she belonged.’ That’s how he began; and now, look at this!”
All the young people had now gathered around the pond, or lake, that had been made in a natural basin on the mountain side, for thinking that their host and hostess would better like to enter their new home with no strangers about them, Dorothy had suggested:
“Let’s follow the boys! Jim’s arm ought to be looked after, first thing, and I’ll remind him of it. He’d no business to come on horseback all that long way, but he never would take care of himself.”
“Has Leslie ever been here before?” asked Molly Breckenridge.
“No. It is as much a surprise to him as to his mother. But he’s mighty proud of his father,” answered Dorothy. “Look, here he comes now.”
He came running across the sward and down the rocky path to the edge of the lake and clapped a hand on the shoulders of Herbert and Montmorency. He did not mean to be less cordial to Jim Barlow but he was. For two reasons: one that Dorothy had extolled her humble friend till he seemed a paragon of all the virtues; and secondly what he had learned of Jim’s eagerness for knowledge had made him ashamed of his own indifference to it. Even that day, his father had commendedthe poorer boy for his keen observation of everything and read him a portion of a letter received from Dr. Sterling, the clergyman with whom James lived and studied.
The Doctor had written that the lad was already well versed in natural history and that his interest in geology was as great as the writer’s own. He felt that this invitation to his beloved protégé was a wonderful thing for the student, and that Mr. Ford might feel he was having a hand in the formation of a great scientist.
There had been more of the same sort of praise and Leslie had looked with simple amazement at the tall, awkward youth, who had arrived in Denver with the rest of his young guests.
“That fellow smart? Clever? Brainy? Well, he doesn’t look it. If ever I saw a regular clodhopper, he’s the chap. But that Herbert Montaigne, now, is rippin’! He has the right ‘air,’ and so has the shorty, the fat Monty, only his figure is against him,” he had remarked to Mateo, who had instantly agreed with him. Indeed, the Mexicanneverdisagreed with his “gracious excellency, Señor Leslie.”
Mateo‘s service was an easy one and his salary good. Besides, he was really fond of his young master and formed all his opinions in accordance. So then he, too, cast a supercilious glance at Jim, and had caused that shy lad’s color torise, though beyond that he took no notice.
Already as they stood there gazing over the lake, crimson with the last rays of the sun, Jim was studying the rocks upon the farther side and squinting his eyes at something moving among them. It was with a startled return to his surroundings that he heard Leslie now say:
“My father wants to have you come in, Mr.—I mean James. The doctor is going to properly dress your arm.”
“The doctor? Is there a doctor here?” asked Dorothy, slipping her hand under Jim’s uninjured arm, and conveying by that action her sympathy with his feeling of an alien.
But he coolly drew aside. He wasn’t going to be humiliated by any girl’s cossetting, not even hers. He had never realized his poverty so bitterly, nor been more ashamed of that fact. Just because some richer boys looked down upon him was no reason he should look down upon himself. Also, it angered him that he really needed surgical attention. He had suffered intensely during the ride hither but he had kept that to himself. He meant to keep it to himself whatever happened, and to join in what was going on as if he were physically sound as the other boys.
“It’s only my left arm, anyway. I’d be a poor stick of a thing if I couldn’t manage with the other,” he had thought, bravely, despite the pain.Now here was he being made the object of everybody’s notice; and, being Jim—he hated it! There was a surly look in his eyes as he replied to Leslie’s message:
“I guess not. I mean—there isn’t any need—I’m all right. I’m all right, I say. I’m—Shucks! I’m bully!”
It was Dorothy who blushed this time, she was so mortified by the rudeness of her “paragon.” Whenever had he used such an expression? She flashed an indignant glance upon him, then coolly commanded him:
“You come right straight along, James Barlow. You’re Mr. Ford’s guest now and must do what he wants, just the same as if he were Dr. Sterling. Besides, I know we all ought to be freshening ourselves before supper. Lady Gray hates untidy people. Come on.”
Again she linked her arm in Jim’s and led the way up the slope toward the house, while at the mention of supper all the others fell into line behind her. And now Jim was already ashamed of his petulance with her. After all, she was the prettiest girl of them all; and, so far as he knew, the richest. She was “thoroughbred;” her family one of the oldest in its native State; and though the poorhouse boy had no family pride of his own he was loyal to old Maryland and his earliest friend. What had not Dolly been to him? Hisfirst teacher, his loving companion, and the means of all that was good coming into his life.
“Say, Dolly, I’m sorry I said that and shamed you. Sorry I’m such a conceited donkey as to hate being looked down on. You just keep me posted on what’s what, little girl, and I’ll try to behave myself. But it beats creation, to find such a place as this up here on the Rockies and to know one man’s done it. Kind of takes a feller’s breath away, don’t it?”
They were a little ahead of the rest of the party and able to talk freely, so Dorothy improved the chance to give “her boy Jim” a little lecture; suggesting that he must never stop short of accomplishing just as much as Daniel Ford had done.
“What one poor lad can do, another can—if he will!If he will, James Barlow! It’s just thewill, you see. There was a copy in my old writing-book: ‘What man has done, man can do.’”
“Shucks! I’m ambitious enough, but ’tain’t along no money lines. What I want is learnin’—just plain knowledge. I wrote a copy once, too, and ’twas that ‘Knowledge is Power.’ I made them capitals the best I could so ’t I never would forget ’em.”
“Huh! For such a wise young man you talk pretty common. There’s no need, Jim Barlow, for you to go back into all the bad grammar and chipped-off words just because you’re talking to—me.I notice you are very particular and careful when you speak to our hosts. Oh, Jim! isn’t this going to be just a glorious summer? Except when I think about Aunt Betty I’m almost too happy to breathe.”
Jim had stumbled along beside her, unseeing the objects that were nearest—the lovely shrubbery, beautiful flowers, and quaint little furnishings of that grand lawn—but with his eyes fixed on a distant mountain peak, bare of verdure, and seemingly but a mass of vari-colored rock; and he now remarked:
“I wonder how much of this country that Dan Ford owns! I wonder if he’s got a claim on the peaks yonder!”
“Come back to earth, boy! Can’t you think anything, see anything but—stones? Here we are at the door and I fancy this gentleman is the doctor. Good evening, sir.”
“Is this the lad with the injured arm?” asked the gentleman meeting the pair, and glancing toward Jim’s bandaged arm, with the coat sleeve hanging loose above it.
“Yes, sir, but it’s nothing. It doesn’t need any attention,” said Jim, ungraciously.
“Behave yourself, Jim. Yes, Doctor—I suppose you’re that?—he is so badly hurt that he’s cross. But it’s wonderful to find a doctor away up here,” said Dorothy. Her odd little air of authority overthe great, loutish lad, and her gay smile to himself, instantly won the stranger’s liking, and he answered warmly:
“Wonderful, maybe, but no more so than all of Dan Ford’s doings. Step this way, my son, and Miss, I fancy you’d best not follow just yet. Nurse Melton will assist me, if I need assistance.”
“A nurse, too? How odd!” said Dorothy turning to join her mates.
She did not see Jim Barlow again that night. When the examination was made the doctor found the injured arm in bad shape, swollen and inflamed to a degree that made great care a necessity unless much worse were to follow.
So, for the first time in his healthy life, Jim found himself an invalid; sent to bed and ministered to by a frail, sweet-faced woman in a white uniform, whose presence on that far away ranch was a puzzle to him. Until, seeing his evident curiosity, she satisfied it by the explanation:
“Oh! I’m merely another of Mr. Ford’s beneficiaries. My brother is an engineer on one of his railroads, and he heard that I was threatened with consumption. So he had me sent to Denver for a time, till San Leon was ready. Then I came here. I’m on hand to attend any sick folks who may need me, though you’re the first patient yet. I can tell you that you’re fortunate to numberDaniel Ford among your friends. He’s the grandest man in the world.”
Jim lay quiet for a time, till his supper was brought in. But he could not taste that. The dressing of his wounded arm had been painful in extreme, though he had borne the pain without a groan, and for that been greatly admired by both the surgeon and the nurse. He was now feverish and discontented. The “happy summer” of which Dorothy had boasted was beginning anything but happily for him. He was angry against his own weakness and disappointed that he could not at once begin his work of studying the rocks of this region. To do so had been his chief reason for accepting Mr. Ford’s genial invitation, for his shyness shrank from meeting strangers and accepting favors from them. Dr. Sterling had talked him “out of his nonsense” for the time being, but he now wished himself back in his familiar room at Deerhurst lodge, with Hans and Griselda Roemer. They were humble folk and so was he. He had no business in this rich man’s “shack” that was, in reality, a palace; where pleasure was the rule and work the exception. Well—things might happen! He’d take care they should! He was among the mountains—for that part he was glad; only regretful of the debt to another which had brought him there.
The hum of voices in and about the big houseceased. Even the barking dogs were silent at last, and the music from the men’s quarters, stopped. There was where he, Jim belonged, by right. Out in some of the many buildings at the rear; so many, in fact, that they were like a village. He guessed he’d go there. Yes. In the morning, maybe the Boss would give him a job, and he could work to pay his keep. His thoughts grew wilder and more disordered, his head ached.
The nurse was sitting silent in an adjoining room. Actual watching was unnecessary and she understood her patient’s mood, that her presence in his chamber worried him. It was his time—now or never. He crept from his bed and stepped out of the low window upon the wide porch.
Even in his delirious confusion it struck him that he had never seen such wonderful moonlight, nor such a big, inviting world. The vagary of thought altered. He would not seek the workmen’s quarters, after all. The mountains were better. They called him. They did not seem far away. He would not feel so hot and then so shivery if he could lie down on their cool tops, with only the sky above him. Aye, they called him; and blindly answering to their silent summons the sick boy went. The things he prophesied had surely begun to “happen.”
San Leon ranch was a large one. The dwelling house and many outbuildings were upon a rich plateau topping a spur from the great mountain beyond. On one side, the land sloped to the valley of the Mismit, utilized for the sheep farming; and across the river, or run, rose grassy fields, climbing one above another till they ended in rocky, verdureless soil. Here were the cattle ranges, and here the herds of horses lived their free life. The extent of the property amazed the newcomers, even Lady Gray herself.
She was exploring the premises escorted by Leslie and her young guests, and piloted by the talkative Lem Hunt. For once he had attentive listeners. There was no fellow ranchmen to ridicule his oft-told tales, but eager ears to which they were new; and eyes as eager to behold the scenes of these same marvellous stories.
All began and ended with “The Boss, he.” Evidently, for old Lem, there existed but one man worth knowing and that was the “Boss, he.”
“I s’pose, Ma’am, you know how the Boss, he come to buy S’ Leon. No? You don’t? By the Great Horned Spoon! Ain’t that great? Just like him. The Boss, he never brags of his doin’s, that’s why I have to do it for him. Well, Ma’am, I can’t help sayin’ ’twas a deed o’ charity. Just a clean, simon-pure piece of charity. Yes, Ma’am, that’s what it was, and you can bite that off an’ chew it.”
Mrs. Ford smiled. She was always delighted to hear of her husband’s generous deeds but rarely heard of them from himself. Also, she had supposed that the purchase of San Leon had been a recent one and was amazed now to learn it had been owned by Mr. Ford for several years. Not as it then was, for no improvements had been made to the home-piece till after he had found her that last winter in San Diego. Then, at once, preparations had been made for this home-coming, with the result of all the beauty that now greeted her eyes.
“Tell us, Lemuel. I’m anxious to hear.”
Lem switched some hay from a wagon seat, that stood upon the ground, and motioned the lady to be seated. The youngsters grouped about her, Lem cut off a fresh “chaw,” rubbed his hands and began. He stood with legs far apart, arms folded, an old sombrero pushed back on his head, a riding crop in hand, and an air of a king. Was he not afree-born American citizen, as good as could be found in all the country? Lemuel adored his “Boss” but he had not learned the manners which that “Boss” would have approved in the presence of the Gray Lady; who, by the way, was never more truly the “Lady” than in her intercourse then, and always, with the toilers at San Leon.
“Well, sir, Ma’am, I mean—’twas really a deed o’ gift. There was another railroader, rich once, done somethin’ he hadn’t ought to. I don’t rightly know what that was. The Boss never told, course, and it never leaked out otherwise. That’s no more here nor there. But he, the other feller, had his bottom dollar into S’ Leon, and some dollars ’t wasn’t his ’n. He was countin’ on this range bein’ chock full o’ silver an’ he’d wheedled the rest to takin’ his word for it. Silver? Not on your life. The sheriffs got after him. He hadn’t a friend in the world. He lit out a-foot and got as far as Denver city an’ aboard a train. Leastwise, under a baggage car, stealin’ a ride. Course he got hurt. Happened the Boss, he was on hand. He’s a way of bein’ when other folks is in trouble. Heard the feller’s story. Had knowed him out east and ’lowed he was more fool than knave. Long-short was—S’ Leon swopped owners. The first named had had to take his medicine an’ I’ve been told he took it like a little man. The Boss paid in full, on condition ’t all hands round gottheir level dues. Atterwards, the Boss made this a dumpin’-ground for all the down-in-the-world unfortunates he knew.
“The doctor’s one. He was just dyin’ back yonder, same as Miss Melton. Doc, he took the place o’ book-keeper, sort o’ manager—I claim to be that myself—but to do anything needed. The’s always somebody gettin’ broke, legs, an’ arms, and such. But as for gineral sickness, why there ain’t never been none o’ that to San Leon. No wonder that Dan Ford’s a prosperous man! He lives his religion—he ain’t no preachin’-no-practice-sky-pilot, the Boss, he ain’t.
“Ma’am? Like to see where the boys hang out? Well, come along. If things ain’t the way I’d like to have ’em, you c’n allow ’t I’m the only one’s been in the ranks. Yes, Ma’am. I have that. Used to belong to a crack comp’ny out home and was one the picked men to shoot at Seagirt, New Jarsey. The National Rifle Range, Ma’am, as maybe you know. I’ve scored highest, more ’n once. That’s how I come to sort o’ set up in business out here. Shootin’ an’ hosses; them’s my business; and every tenderfoot strikes S’ Leon comes under my teachin’ first or last.”
With that remark he cast a critical eye upon the assembled young folks and noted the kindling gleam of seven pairs of eyes. Only Jim Barlow’s blue orbs were missing; but, of course, that nurseor doctor had made him stay in bed, which was a shame, the others thought, and Dorothy loyally expressed:
“Course! That’s one the things we’re all wild to do—learn to handle a rifle. But don’t let’s begin till Jim gets well.”
A curious expression passed over Mrs. Ford’s face. She was the only one present who knew of Jim’s midnight escape. The knowledge had almost miraculously been kept from Lemuel and by the master’s express orders. Whatever that talkative ranchman knew, all the world knew, as fast as his tongue could tell it.
All had been so quiet in the sick room that the nurse had supposed her patient fallen asleep; and it was not till daybreak that she discovered his absence. She had immediately informed Dr. Jones, and he, in turn, the “Boss,” who understanding the shy nature of the truant and knowing how he would dislike to be talked about, had instituted a quiet but thorough search. Only the trustiest men had been set upon this search, Mr. Ford taking the most active part in it. By his request the matter had been kept from his young guests, also; and they were to be made as happy as possible in their ignorance. As he said to Lady Gray, before leaving her:
“Of course, we shall find him in a very little while. He can’t have gone far afield, and we’llhave him back in bed before any of those youngsters get wind of his performance. Nurse says he was flighty and feverish and I don’t wonder. Doctor claims he’d rather have had a clean, sharp break to mend than all those bruised and torn ligaments. However, don’t you worry. This party is going to be a success—don’t doubt. Sorry to leave you with seven young folks on your hands—a little world in themselves, of varying ideas and wills. They can easily spend this first half-day in inspecting the ranch and, if they’re as healthy and happy as they seem, will be too interested to give much thought to Master James. Good-by, don’t worry.”
However, although they felt it would be well to wait for the injured Jim before beginning their lessons in shooting, Lemuel himself took the matter out of their hands, explaining:
“I’ve lived long enough to know there ain’t never but one time to do one thing, an’ that if a feller don’t snatch it then, afore it gets out o’ reach, he’ll be sorry forever atterwards. We’ll go inspect the boys’ quarters first hand. That’s a part o’ my business, anyway. Makes ’em mad, sometimes, but it’s for their good. Nothin’ like the army for trainin’ folks right, an’ so I tell ’em. Get jawed for it a pretty consid’able, but Lemuel G. W. Hunt—I’m named for the Father of my Country, Ma’am—Lemuel G. W. Hunt always does his duty,let come what follers atterwards. Right this way, Ma’am. Hep, hep, hep, right face!”
The odd fellow led off with a military step and catching his humor the boys did likewise. Then, the girls laughed and marched, Herbert gallantly escorting Mrs. Ford, as the eighth of the little “Company A,” as Leslie immediately named the new “awkward squad.”
“And I say, Lem, it’ll be just rippin’ if you’ll drill us in regular ‘tactics.’ Once a day, anyhow. I’ll get Dad to furnish the uniforms and it’ll be a help because, you know, I’m bound for West Point sometime,” cried Leslie.
Lady Gray’s face resumed its look of anxiety that had passed for a moment, listening to Lemuel’s talk. This West Point ambition of her son’s was a sore subject with her, though his great desire for a military life had never been hidden from her.
“If I can pass the physical exam., and the book one—either,” he added, with a grimace.
“Well, you’ll have to know a power more ’n you do now, if you get into that place,” said truthful Alfy. “I’ve heard Mis’ Judge Satterlee, up-mounting, tell ’t her boy near studied his head off, an’ then got shut out. It’s a terrible fine thing, though, if a body could. Why, up-mounting, we can hear the bands playin’, guns firin’, and Dolly there, she’s seen ’em drill. Seen the battery-drill, she called it, and didn’t guess how in the world them gray-coatedboys could hop on-an’-off their gun wagons like they did. When I get home, I mean to go over to the Point myself and see ’em. If you should be there I’d take you something to eat.”
Leslie was now much more interested in hearing about the place of his dreams than in the present inspection of San Leon; and encouraged by this Alfaretta made Dolly tell how she and Molly had once visited the Academy and Molly’s cadet cousin, Tom Hungerford.
Molly interrupted the narrative with frequent comments and they all paused at the entrance to the Barracks, as Lemuel had named the long building of the workmen, while the story was told. Lemuel and Leslie were the most eager listeners, both faces alight with enthusiasm, as the two girls described their day at the military school.
“Tom got leave off, to show us around, and Aunt Betty with Mrs. Hungerford—”
“That’s Aunt Lucretia, Tom’s mother,” explained Molly.
“You tell it, Molly. You can do it better,” urged Dorothy.
“All right. I’d rather. Well, we went down in the morning early, on the boat, to be in time for early drill. It was summer time and the darling cadets were all in their white uniforms, fresh as daisies. Do you know those poor lambs have to change their white suits every day? Some oftener,if they get a single speck of dirt on them. Their laundry bills are something terrible. Terrible! poor dears!”
Lady Gray laughed at the girl’s sympathy with the afflicted young soldiers, and Dolly took up the tale again:
“Well, they needn’t worry. The Government pays for it, really. They just get a little salary each month and their expenses come out of that. Whatever else they have their own people give them. But, anyway, it was just lovely. If I were a boy and didn’t want to be a great scientist, like Jim does, or a banker like Monty, or—or anything else, I’d be an army man.”
“Bother what you’d be, Dolly. You’re only a girl. Go on with the story,” said impatient Leslie, while Lemuel nodded his head in satisfaction. Talk of soldiering touched the warmest spot in the old sharpshooter’s heart. “Do hurry up.”
“Why, after all, there isn’t much to tell—”
“But there is,” cried Molly. “About the luncheon in the church. Listen. We went everywhere about the grounds, saw the riding-school, the mess-room, the dancing-hall and all, a lot of places. Oh! yes, the library, too. Then it got noon and hungry-time and we’d brought an elegant lunch. Cold chicken and sardines and sandwiches and early peaches—the nicest we could get, and Tom’s ‘leave’ gave him a chance to eat it with us. Weasked him where we could and he thought a minute, then said in the church. Aunty Lu thought that was dreadful, to eat in a church! But Tom said it was the only place on the Point where we wouldn’t be stared at by others. Folks were everywhere else; cadets and visitors—and oh! It was so pretty. All the white tents on the campus and the darling boys walking about in their white—”
“Nighties?” suggested Monty, maliciously. It had been an ambition of his own to enter the Academy; but his being under age, his size—and several other good reasons, including his utter want of fitness in the matter of book learning—had prevented the realization of this fine dream. His failure had rendered him skeptical of the charms of the famous institution, and he now always mentioned it as a place quite beneath his own notice.
The story promised to be a long one and Lemuel thoughtfully produced a chair and placed it for Mrs. Ford’s use. Her eyes were on Leslie’s interested face and she would gladly have postponed the recital; for, even more than the disgruntled Monty, she disliked the very name of West Point. However, in this matter, as in many future ones, her own fancy was to be set aside by the eagerness of her young guests. So Dorothy went on:
“There wasn’t anybody else in the church except ourselves. A few visitors came to the doorand peeped in, to see a famous painting over the chancel, but finding us there went away again. That old church is so interesting! Tablets to famous generals everywhere—”
“This isn’t a history lesson! Go on with the story!” cried Herbert, who was so familiar with West Point that he desired no fresh description.
Molly made him a little mocking face and herself took up the tale:
“Well, we had our dinners there, sitting in some of the front pews, and the way Tom walked into that fried chicken and things would make you open your eyes. We were all hungry, course, after so early a breakfast, and the sail down, and all; but Tom was simply ravenous. He was so hungry he took away our own appetites, just watching. When he’d eaten all he could there was still a lot of stuff left; and Mrs. Calvert asked him if he knew any place where we could dispose of it; a garbage can, she meant, or some waste-box.
“Tom said yes he did, and if she’d excuse him he’d show her. It was what he called ‘slumgudgeon day.’ ‘Slumgudgeon’ is a kind of stew made up of the leavings of lots of other meals and the poor, darling cadets just hate it. He said ‘cold victuals’ never came in as handy as ours did then. So he unbuttoned his jacket, that fitted him as if he’d been melted into it, and began to pad himself out with the leavings. Cake and chickens, picklesand sardines, boiled eggs and fruit—you never saw such a mess! And the way he packed it in, so as to keep an even sort of front, was a caution. You know the poor dears have no pockets in their uniforms. Not allowed. So that was the only way he could take it. He wanted to share it with his cronies after we’d gone and told Aunty Lu that it would have been a perfectly wicked shame to have thrown it away, when it would do him so much good. Oh! we had a glorious time. I do just love West Point—”
“The cadets, you mean! I never saw a girl that liked the boys so well as you do, Molly Breckenridge. But I s’pose you can’t help it. If ’t wasn’t for that you’d be just splendid, andtheydon’t seem to mind—much—anyway,” remarked Alfaretta, beaming upon pretty Molly with loving smiles. Molly’s liking for “boys” seemed to honest, sensible Alfy the one flaw in an otherwise lovely character.